


Poker Face

by kyloewok



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Banter, Cheating on the Supreme Leader, Choking, Cunnilingus, Depictions of Abuse, Dom!Vicrul, Emotional Sex, F/M, Fighting for Dominance, Fluff, I have no fucking idea how poker works, Impact Play, L-Bombs, Light Masochism, Porn With Plot, Power Play, Praising and Degradation, Semi-Public Sex, Slapping, Switch!Vicrul, Vicrul POV, Vicrul is protective, gagging, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyloewok/pseuds/kyloewok
Summary: Cheating on the Supreme Leader with one of his most promising men wasn’t optimal— but it was a sweet escape from the immorality that he typically conveyed.(Two part One-shot)
Relationships: Knights of Ren/Reader, Vicrul (Star Wars)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. You. Didn’t. Win.

She flashed him a devious smirk, squinting at him as two dainty brunettes squirmed in his lap, palms flat against his broad chest. He smirked back, observing the seductive gleam in her eye. 

She spun on her heel, swaying her hips with enthusiasm, as she approached his master with diligent steps. 

His master had his back plastered to a stone, engraved beam, being his earnest and colossal self. His spite for his surroundings— lavish and exhilarating— was palpable, radiating off of him in tactile waves. 

His expression was consequential, softening as she beamed at him with a candied smile and adjusted his silk tie for him. Vicrul scoffed, shifting in his seat, studying both of them through narrowed eyes. 

His masters arm engulfed her waist, scooping her up in his embrace. He peppered her face with passionate, frivolous kisses as she giggled and squirmed in his clutch. Her fingers were feathered through his hair, a cheeky grin tugging at her lips.

One of the woman began pressing soft kisses into his neck, he blinked profusely and drawled in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. 

He swallowed the envy slithering up his throat. His eyes were trained on the extravagant architecture of the nightclub, taking an idle sip of his drink. The other brunette pressed fervent kisses to his skin and he hummed contently, nestling into his chair. 

He could sense her present before she was visible, huffing to himself. He was bombarded with her smug gaze as she zipped through the crowd. One hand on her swaying hips, the other cradling a half-full glass of red wine, eyebrows raised. Her astonishing features were accentuated by the black, satin pencil dress hugging her curves.

Her pearly whites reflected the auburn, crystallized lighting overhead as she grinned cunningly. Her smile faltered once she was only inches away, taking a brisk sip of her wine. 

She snapped her fingers arduously, both of the women in his lap exchanged a dubious glance before staring at her, baffled. He watched with an amused smirk, stifling it when one of the woman glared at her.

Bad Idea, he thought. 

She snorted, a scowl taking shelter on her twisted face. "Go." She demanded, her tone hushed and cold, her pumps clacking into the tiled floors impatiently. 

One of them swiveled to face him with a bewildered, expectant look. He only shrugged haphazardly and pursed his lips. "You heard her." He breathed mundanely. "Scram." 

They both scoffed and grumbled curses, hopping off of his lap and scurrying towards the dance floor together.

A prudent chuckle slipped past her nude painted lips as she regained her deliberate footing, sinking into the velvet chair directly across from him. 

Her legs were crossed and clad, hands folded neatly in her lap as she chewed on her inner cheek and eyed her surroundings attentively.

"Really?" He huffed, cocking a brow. 

"Hm?" Her eyes flickered back to him, glossy with intoxication. 

"You scared off my ladies." He mused playfully, cocking his head towards the direction that they scrambled off to. One of them was already slipping tongue with a humanoid. 

"Well," She cocked a brow and titled her head, smiling innocently, batting her eyelashes. "Thats unfortunate." 

He hummed, "Very," He mumbled unenthusiastically, tapping his thigh with the pads of his fingers. He took another sip of his whiskey, his heavy boot tapping to the mellow, classical jazz playing. 

He sighed incoherently, swirling the bronze liquid in his glass. When he observed her mechanisms, she noticed that her stature was tranquil. The wine must've aided her relaxation and loosened the tension she had been feeling earlier, on the flight to Canto.

"Is there a reason you came over here?"

She shrugged, slouching deeper into her seat. "I'm just bored," She breathed, toying with the hem of her dress and glancing around the ballroom. "The Supreme Leader has to take care of business, or something, I guess." She waved a hand of dismissal, grimacing when a cocky grin was plastered on his face. 

"Don't look at me like that," She snapped, "I just got bored and lonely." She corrected herself skittishly, bringing her glass of wine to her lips with thick gulps, her throat bobbing from the effort. 

She slowly licked her lips, ridding the wine that tainted her mouth, staring at her glass. 

His tongue subconsciously darted out to lick his own lips. He could practically taste the rich grape flavor that would linger on her lips, as he imagined kissing her. He reminisced on the thought of her plush lips and the soft, muffled moans that would elicit from her throat whenever he kissed her. 

He missed her lips, those delicious sounds. The sounds he chose to pretend belonged to him. Even though they had, on numerous occasions behind his masters back, they were anything but his to bask in.

She sought refuge in his kisses and touches on nights things turned sour with her and his master. She was stubborn, refusing to admit her feelings for him. She constantly pestered him, picked fights with him whenever they were around people. When in reality, he was just her sanctuary. 

And admittedly, she was his. She was a primal, sweet escape from his exasperating duties. A hospitable reminder that there was more to the galaxy than just chaos and peril. 

The first night they spent together occasionally filtered his perturbed thoughts, tranquilized them. After his master was guaranteed of her devotion, he trusted her enough to leave her alone on the Finalizer as he ventured off to D'Qar to locate the scavenger.

Even though they agreed on a one time, temporary sexual relief; things between them continued, and it was infeasible for them to stop.

The alone time they had together gradually began to grow limited, while the time she spent with his master increased copiously. 

He loathed witnessing her as somebody else's, but he was voiceless and unopinionated. 

Things changed with her after their secret affair sprouted. Her public affection towards his master felt real. The touches, and looks, and words they exchanged were real. Her happiness with him was real. 

He would be foolish to interfere with her happiness, with her contentment. The selfish part of him considered it anyways. 

"Uh... You okay?" She asked.

He blinked fervently to recollect himself, eyebrows crinkling together. She was hovering in the minimal space between his legs, snapping her fingers. The proximity of her face nearly felt foreign, and just as exhilarating as the first time he had ever seen it. 

His eyes leisurely trailed down her goddess body. Her breasts were spilling from the top of her restricting dress, kindling a fire between his legs. He absentmindedly reached out for her, his fingers trailing down both of her outer thighs softly. He hummed in amusement when goosebumps bubbled at the surface of her skin. 

She stumbled backwards and swatted his hand away, scolding him with a scowl. "Are you crazy?" She whisper shouted, glancing over her shoulders and glimpsing the club nervously. "The Supreme Leader could've seen." 

He sighed, the corner of his lip twitching upwards as he tapped his glass with his forefinger. "We could take it somewhere private then." He mumbled into the rim of his drink, cocking a brow at her. She shrugged with a taunting sigh, creeping back into the space between his legs. 

"Maybe we could." She teased, tilting her head from side to side and puckering her delicious lips. "Maybe if you beat me at a game of poker..." She bit her lip suggestively, swiveling around studiously. She ripped an overpriced ring off of her finger and tossed it onto the floor. 

Her ass was inches away from his growing erection as she smirked at him from over her shoulder and arched her back, wiggling her butt and popping it out as she bent at the waist and scooped up the ring. 

"Then you can have me, Vicky."

He grumbled in defeat, her nickname for him did unexplainable things to his insides; melted his heart. The fragile heart he nearly forgot existed, with the endless amounts of havoc and destruction he had caused distracting him.

"Mm, so you think I want you?" He taunted with a sinister smirk, "How flamboyant." 

She shrugged carelessly, "Apparently my flamboyance arouses you." She retorted knowingly, eyes flickering to his growing bulge. 

He narrowed his eyes at her and pursed his lips, she mimicked his glare and crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively.

"Nope." He hummed in disapproval, waving a finger at her. "I think you're the one who wants me. You scared off my girls." He suppressed a gratified smirk as she rolled her eyes and flipped him off. There she is. 

She was adorable when she got jealous. 

"No." She mumbled. "I needed to sit down, my legs are still shaking." 

He froze, blinking vigorously. "From?"

A sheepish, blotchy rouge tainted her cheeks and she swallowed. "The Supreme Leader."

Rage coursed through his veins, carving a path of dismay through his body. Visions of her moaning and writhing as his master railed her into the wall flooded his thoughts and he grimaced. 

"Your silence is my victory." She prudently cocked her head and pumped her arms in excitement, "And the crowd goes wild!" She shouted through a strained laugh, shooting hand guns at nobody in particular. 

"Victory? You?" He laughed hysterically and slapped his knee with humor, standing up forcefully. She scrambled backwards, peering up at him through her soft eyelashes. 

"Yes, Vicky! You looked like you were going to snap my neck in half," she chuckled breathlessly.

He sighed heavily. "If you had a victory, that means I should take up that poker offer and gain myself a rebuttal. And a piece of this ass." He grappled with one of her ass cheeks and she winced, pawing his hand away harshly. She apprehensively glimpsed the room for the second time. 

"You can only touch me if you win!" She pointed up at him seriously. "And you won't." She mused confidently as she skipped ahead of him and towards the Casino. 

"Such a brat."

────────────────────────────

She probed him with her pretentious stare from across the table, an arrogant smile tugging at her lips as she fanned herself with her cards. If her tempting faces weren't beautiful, it would've irked him.

He winked tauntingly at her with a deceitful smirk, smugly chuckling under his breath as her cheeks flushed crimson and she rolled her eyes, her shoulders sinking as she leaned forward and propped up her elbows on the table, jeering at him silently and wiggling her eyebrows to provoke him. 

He sighed, biting his tongue to refrain from speaking. The other players preferred silence as they played, enjoying the classical music and scent of cigarettes. He averted his gaze to his cards, shuffling through them. He nearly had a straight flush except for one ten- spade ruining the streak. Not bad, he thought and nodded to himself, but not good enough. 

He glanced up at her through his eyelashes. She was biting her lip to conceal her giddy smile as she held her cards tightly to her chest, watching one of the players place down a card attentively and wiggling in her seat. 

She definitely had a good stack of cards, he could tell plainly by her awful pokerface, she looked like she was swallowing the urge to squeal. 

She was shockingly decent at poker, he's noticed from the past few rounds as he studied her ethical mechanisms closely. 

As her turn rolled around, he shifted and sat at the edge of his seat, pressing his forearms into the table. She glanced up at him, stifling a cheeky grin and placing down an ace. 

He stilled, the entire table blinked at her in astonishment as she exploded into a riot of happiness. She sprung up from the table, slamming her cards down, and doing a victory dance. Everybody groaned and shifted in their seats, "She cheated!" An egotistical man shouted and waved an accusing finger, scooping up his champagne and marching off. 

He scowled, biting his tongue in annoyance, averting his gaze back to her as she laughed mischievously, radiating prudence, gulping down a shot of vodka victoriously. The men exchanged dubious glances, grumbling curses to themselves and glaring at her. 

He hastily rose from his seat, rounding the table swiftly as she placed her hands on her hips and bantered, mocking them. Based on the hostile snarls darting for them both and their palpable bitterness, things were about to get ugly, and his original plan for the night was to stay out of trouble and just relax. 

She was a little pain in the ass, always causing a fuss or a scene, wherever she went. Drama just trailed behind her like eager mice following a path of crumbs. Although he was envious of his master, the rational part of him was grateful that he wasn't the one constantly being pestered by her attitude. 

Which was precisely why his master was so infatuated by her in the first place. Tempted by her snark, enticed by her sass, motivated by her witty mouth. 

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Her growly complaint snapped him out of his trance. Her eyebrows were furrowed with irritation, jaw slack and prompting the pouting man. "Does it hurt your little feelings that a girl beat your grimy ass at poker?" She formed a false pouty lip, mimicking him, "Awe."

"Okay, come on." He encircled her waist with his arm, attempting to tug her away from the table, but her feet were rooted to the floor as she scowled at the man.

"What did you just call me?" The man spat, tediously rising from his seat. She challenged him with her daring stare. 

"That's enough." He insisted gruffly, interlocking his fingers with hers. Her gaze broke free from the mans and dropped to their hands, before he squeezed softly with an earnest look and she sighed, obliging his requests.

He was shuffling through the clad, proper clusters of repulsive people, dragging her behind him. She may have won poker, and she may have insisted that he could only have her here if he won. He just needed to taste her lips, even if it was just a peck. 

He maneuvered through the crowd, and approached a dimly lit foyer. The floor to ceiling gate creaked as he breached it open, creeping inside. Her eyebrows were knitted together with perplexion as he tugged her in beside him, the door clicked as the latch shut, and he locked the door with one hand as the other found her hip. 

He saw the way her upper lip curled, and he growled, smashing his lips into hers. She squeaked out of shock, tense and lips pursed, before her lips slowly adapted to the rhythm of his. A rich hum rattled from her throat and passed through his mouth, he groaned, gripping both of her hips and slamming her back first into the wall. 

"Oh," she gasped softly as his teeth dug into her bottom lip, her forearms looped around his neck as she pressed her body into his and deepened the kiss, the wet smacks of there lips ricocheting around the... closet? He had no idea, and he didn't care. The only thing he could fathom was the lingering taste of wine transmitting from her mouth and the plushness of her lips. 

"You. Didn't. Win." Her sentence was broken into several pieces as his lips latched onto hers like a leech, suckling her bottom lip, his cock pulsing and straining the leather of his pants as he bucked his hips into her once, and she gripped him harder and rocked her pelvis into his. 

The lustful moan that slipped past her lips and vibrated the walls of his mouth made him berserk, he pinned her to the wall with the force of his weight, teasingly poking her cunt with his bulge. His jaw was slack and firm, opening wide, allowing her tongue to slip through. Tongues meshing and clashing, sparking with the tactile electricity of desire, her fingers weaved through his hair and yanked; he moaned. 

A deep, hoarse, touch deprived groan into her lips and she whimpered, her hand ruffled through his fluffy, sandy brown locks. She was grinding her hips into his muscular thigh now, seeking out friction. He chuckled with satisfaction, gulping down her eagerness like a starving predator. 

Her lips disconnected from his, head tilted back against the wall, chewing her bottom lip to contain the sounds of pleasure threatening to spill from her lips. But he could feel it all on his own; her wetness seeped through her panties and coated his pants. She mewled when the hands clutching her hips guided her into him as he started to press fervent, sloppy kisses to her revealed throat. 

"Gods, Vic." She whimpered, voice trembling with pleasure as the friction built significantly quickly between them, the heat of her core was scorching his body like a wildfire, tiny raspy moans passing through her lips as she teased her clit with his thigh. 

He groaned with defeat when she whimpered his name again, "Please." She whined, croaking, eyebrows knitted together with pleasure. Her throat bobbed beneath his lips as she continued massaging his scalp. "Please, Vic. Mmph." Her desperate pleads were overtaken by hums of desire as his hand palmed her breast with precision, pinching her nipple, suckling on her pulse. 

"Look who wants to be fucked so desperately now." He chirped with a sinister grin, cackling to himself when she glared at him sharply. 

His other hand, that wasn't grappling onto her breast and teasing her nipple, was cupping her thigh, skimming up the hem of her dress and hiking it up her waist. His hands worshipped her body with loyalty, he felt the goosebumps bubble at the surface of her skin wherever he grazed it with his palm. 

His fingertip teased her entrance through her panties and she gasped, swallowing her arrousel harshly, "D-don't get too cocky, Vicky." She sucked in a ragid breath when his finger grazed her clit, fist tightening in his hair. "Kylo w-will do whatever you won't." 

He froze. Palm stilled midstroke on her thigh. His heaving breaths of ferocity fanning her neck. His hand grappling the flesh of her breast twitching. 

He removed himself from her body, she whined, pressing her thighs together for friction and slithering down the wall, hair staticky. He heard the voluminous crack of his thundered slap before he could comprehend her reaction. 

Her head trashed to the side, whipping around, cheek a blazing, blotchy crimson. His heart sunk, thudding in the pads of his feet as regret overtook his senses and he reached to console her; only for the sound that escaped her lips to eventually register in his mind. 

She moaned. A wanton, rich moan, raptured with denial and with pleasurable pain, lips parted and jaw dropped, her chest rising and falling hectically with her anticipated breaths. 

"Ah." He clicked his tongue. She shivered, eyeing him with hooded eyes as he tediously sunk down onto two knees, massaging her outer thighs. "You liked that, hm?"

She nodded vigorously. His breaths wafted into her thighs while he tenderly massaged them. Her fingers remained in his hair, plucking and twisting as the heat of his exhales stimulated her clit. Pink and throbbing in her panties. He shuddered, pawing at his bulge sloppily as he suckled on the flesh of her inner thighs. 

"You're a slut." He mumbled bitterly, his forehead pressed into her pelvis as he nipped on her flesh and she jolted, "A needy one, at that. You'll never be satisfied with just one of us." 

She remained silent. The cogs spinning restlessly in her mind were brutally persistent, clanking. A minuscule trickle of guilt ripples through him. Even though she loved this. He has never seen her this turned on and desperate. He has never seen her this speechless, obediant. 

This was why she would always choose Kylo Ren. His malicious behaviors came naturally, an impulsive instinct. The pleasure she could receive from him was endless. 

The admiration she would receive from him though, was unbeatable, uncanny. One day the euphoric high would vaporize, and the man she was destined to be with would reveal himself to her. And it was him. He was just humiliated, ashamed to admit that he had true feelings for her that weren't just the temporary kind. Especially when she belonged to the man who had put all of his trust in him. 

He kissed her mound, she squirmed, pressing her cunt further into his face and he inhaled the scent of her wetness, snagging the hem of her panties and tearing them off. She shivered as the glacial air of the closet met her wetness. His mouth watered at the sight of her glistening, throbbing pussy, screaming for pleasure.

He gripped her hips and lunged forward, hoisting her thighs up on his shoulders as she moaned in astonishment when his tongue flattened and licked a stripe up her folds. He swirled his tongue around her sticky entrance, he hummed contently as her back arched off of the wall. 

"Vic," she moaned lewdly, toes curling and the muscles in her thighs twitching, nails digging into his scalp. He cracked a deep grin, licking and suckling her folds, flicking her clit with his tongue and avoiding it intentionally as her thighs squeezed the sides of his head and she pouted. 

"Please... Vicky?" Her eyes were glossy and doe, lips formed into a pout as she stifled a whine, pathetically lifting her hips off of the wall to lightly grind into his tongue. She scratched his head softly, he purred, her eyes fluttering shut with pleasure as his breath struck her cunt. 

She knew that was his weakness. When she played with his hair gingerly, gazed at him with those innocent puppy eyes.

"You're such a brat," he snickered, she giggled prudently before she moaned, hips bucking ferociously into his face when he sealed his lips around her clit and sucked with determination, tongue swirling around the aching bud as she smothered him with her thighs and cunt, grinding into him, moaning with each pant as her back constantly slammed back into the wall. 

"Fuck... you," she playfully breathed, failing to smile through her parted lips as she thrashed. His lips trailed down towards her entrance and she scolded him with incoherent curses, "No! Please, don't stop!" She screamed, coils of his fluffy hair weaved through her fingers as she pushed his head into her, forcing his tongue on her clit, riding his face with choppy thrusts of her hips. 

He blubbered nonsense into her pussy, his tongue caressing her wet folds, slit, and her clit all at once, clear ribbons of her wetness dribbling down his chin as she clenched around his tongue and moaned fervently. 

With a few final snaps of her hips, she wailed in pleasure with a death grip on a lock of his hair, the tendrils of his hair nearly ripping from his scalp as she gushed all over his face. He inhaled her cum, swallowing every ounce, her body twitching and legs shaking violently.

She whined as he continued suckling on her clit, she attempted to nudge his face away from her core while also locking him in place with her thighs. 

"I think you need a round two."

────────────────────────────


	2. Kiss It Better

The TIE Fighters control manual was peeling and tarnished. The words, that were meant to inform you of the ships mechanics, were all just tethered scribbles that bled together, splaying scrambled words like it was an incohesive jigsaw puzzle. 

You groaned spitefully, your shoulders slouching in exasperation. "You've got to be kriffing kidding me." You murmured gruffly, sighing through pouty lips, to wisp the tousled baby hairs out of your torridly-flushed cheeks. 

The panel door hissed, whirring open briskly, and you only sunk deeper into your seat, flashing Vicrul a hostile glare from over your shoulder as he trudged through the breached corridor. 

His gloved fingers feathered through your scalp, petting your unruly hair. "What's the princess fussing about now?" He released a hefty, grizzly sigh, plopping down into the leather seat adjacent to you with a grunt.

You scowled, swatting his hand away and arduously thrashed your heavy, fatigued limbs. For the past tedious-ticking hours— 0400 to be exact— Vicrul had been acquired to assess your piloting skills. Kylo sought off on a consequential expedition on Mustafar, and pardon his absence, he suggested that you adapt to the First Orders machinery and the mechanics of the shuttles. 

Although begrudgingly, you obliged to his earnest demands. He expressed his enthusiasm about it, nearly pleading you to practice steering a TIE, and how to maneuver it through compacted space-traffic. Only the stars could fathom the horrendous dynamic of your piloting.

"Are you just going to give me the silent treatment?" Vicrul scoffed, a shaggy strand of his sandy-brown hair billowing into his contorted face. 

You cocked a sagacious brow, pursing your lips in consideration, as you shimmied around in your swiveling chair. 

"Hm." He jeered, rummaging through the contents of his trousers. "I'll just eat the last piece of Jogan fruit, then." He mused, dauntingly bringing the fresh, violet, prickly fruit towards his curling lips. 

You whined dramatically, grumbling brash curses under your breath, as you narrowed your eyes at him and pursed your lips into a dull line. 

His teeth were only a millimeter away from crunching into the fruit— your favorite fruit, that the cafeteria had a limited supply of due to the exotic location of Lothal that it originated from— his eyebrows wiggling perniciously, a prudent smirking tugging at his lips. 

"Vic." You warned, and he barked out a poised snicker. "Don't you dare bite into that."

He cocked an irking brow, just as his pearly front teeth started sinking into the fruit, purple juices spilling from the corner of his lips. 

You bolted from the seat and lunged at him like a feral, wild animal, cackling sardonically through a strained breath as you rustled with him, climbing into his lap. The seat groaned and belched beneath you, croaking and chirping, as Vicrul wailed in amusement. 

You were straddling his broad thighs, grappling for the piece of Jogan fruit as he waved it around flagrantly, laughing at you with his mouth crammed full of fruit. 

After scuffling and failing to snatch the fruit away, you plopped down on him and sighed adamantly, looping your forearms around the nape of his neck. "Please, let me have it." You jutted out your bottom lip, nibbling on it virtuously, as you batted your innocent eyelashes.

His viridian, luminous eyes widened just a smidge, as the chunk of unchewed fruit in his mouth poked at his inner cheek. He blinked leisurely, before gulping it down, and indolently offering you a bite. 

He nudged it towards your mouth and you chuckled softly, threading your fingers through his hair as you loomed over him and took a quipped bite, nagging a chunk of the lilac skin off. He hummed contently, as he took a giant bite after you. His dynamic was mollified and calm, as he leaned his head into your hand and observed the titanium-brimmed ceiling through hooded eyes. 

You raked in a pacifying breath through your flaring nostrils, as you glimpsed over his shoulder, ensuring that the corridor was sealed. The last thing the two of you needed was a pair of pesky, probing Stormtroopers to witness you nuzzling up together. They would scramble for General Hux and have you terminated or discarded from the Finalizer without haste.

Once you were positive the coast was clear, and you were free to associate with Vicrul in all the platonic or amorous ways you desired, you sunk deeper into his lap and nestled your cheek into his peck, his heart drumming boisterously against your ear. His chin poked your scalp as he took another crisp bite, engulfing your waist with one of his bulky arms, humming to himself and tapping his booted foot. 

"I don't want to practice anymore." You muttered into the ornate fabric of his tunic, your whines coming out muffled and pathetic. "I'm tired. And hungry." You blabbered, tilting your chin towards the elevated ceiling, opening your mouth and motioning for a bite. 

He complied to your wordless demands, bringing the fruit to your mouth, and you took a gash out from the sweet, mushy center of it, beaming with a satisfied smile before returning your cheek to his peck. "Piloting is stupid." You sneered, earning you a snort from Vicrul, as his gloved fingertips subconsciously caressed your arm. 

"Kylo will never let me out of here, anyways." You admitted mundanely, as a twinge of despair nagged at your heart, and a hoarse lump formed in your throat. "What much does piloting skills do for me, if I can never be a pilot?" You smiled solemnly as you lifted your head back up, your eyebrows knitting together as you observed Vicrul's somber expression. 

His lips were twisted in pondering-thought, his emerald, golden gaze was casted to the side in concentration, and his jaw slacked, as he simultaneously traced your arm with vigilant strokes. 

"Vic?" You whispered, tilting your head in quarry, as you trailed your hand up and down his chest tediously, softly. You cackled out a perplexed chuckle, "Are you okay?" 

He nodded gravely, blinking to recollect himself, and outstretched his palm to cup your coyly-blotched cheek. "Yes." He breathed, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, as his eyes lingered on your pouty lips. "We can take a break." He cocked an inculpating brow, earnestly jabbing his finger at you, as he adjusted you on his lap. 

"Thank, gods." You chirped, springing up from his lap and staggering to the floor. 

Vicrul slowly lifted himself from his seat, managing to make you appear significantly smaller in comparison to his colossal build. He peered down at you, as dense wrinkles of amusement embedded into the corners of his warm eyes.

"Lead the way, princess." He quipped with a smug grin, nobly gesturing towards the corridor. You glared at him teasingly, suppressing the minuscule smile that was tugging at your lips, and scrambled through the panel door as it hissed open. 

He always referred to you as princess. It started the first time you were introduced to Vicrul, and the rest of the knights, when you accompanied Kylo on the Night Buzzard. He observed the way that you were treated by Kylo— like you were Nabooian royalty, or a virtuous angel sent by the gods. 

He chirped, "Looks like we gotta' princess on board." Laughing at himself, as all of the knights wailed in amusement. He winked at you, with those emerald eyes, that were once unfamiliar and menacing, and were now a tranquilizing refuge. A sweet, frugal escape from the barbaric galaxy.

The warm probe of Vicrul's gloved finger on your waist caused you to snap out of your trace, and giggle, as he tickled you doltishly, and you swatted him away as he snickered. "Stop," you hissed playfully, and he trotted to your side, hoisting his scathe over his broad shoulder.

"Are we heading towards my quarters?" He asked blandly, and you nodded, nibbling on your bottom lip to suppress a cheesy grin. 

"That's not your brightest idea," he tsked, gritting his teeth and stroking the back of his neck apprehensively. "One of my brothers is bound to catch us creeping in there together."

You sighed, sauntering down the small durasteel ramp, as Vicrul fidgeted with the control panel and securely sealed the TIEs corridor. "Ushar witnessed us kissing before, Vic. And both of us are still breathing." You muttered prudently, crossing your arms defensively, as he narrowed his eyes at you. "I'm just saying. You know they wouldn't tattle on us."

He contemplated your wry words, cocking his head from side to side as he pondered, subconsciously clenching his fist around the hilt of his scathe. "You don't know them like I do," he mumbled your name, a gleam of earnesty twinkling in his eyes, arching a brow. "They value our masters trust over anything, including friendship." 

Your lips curled into a dull frown, as you rolled your shoulders timorously. Silence embraced the frisky air, as your cheeks tingled with sheepishness, and you clamored through the platoon of Stormtroopers marching through the hangar and boarding the Troop Transport to Mustafar. 

Vicrul's glum stare was palpable, as you scorned him in your peripherals. With a merely intelligible sigh, he interlocked his pointer finger with yours limply, discreetly, in wordless reassurance. The urge to recoil reluctantly tempted you, and your corroded mind of stone and your flittering heart of porcelain glass went to war, as you curled your finger around his and stifled a smirk. 

"Kriffing hells," he grumbled breathily, and your flamboyant smirk deepens as you nudge him in the ribcage. "We can go to my quarters. But we need to be careful, okay?" 

You nodded exuberantly, prancing through the tenebrous aisles of the Finalizer, as you instinctively followed the familiar, dark path guiding you to the turbolift. The durasteel platform of the turbolift belched as you and Vicrul slipped inside. 

He fussed with the crimson-illuminated control panel, slamming his digits into the buttons, until the corridor zipped shut and you soared three-levels up. The Knights had a secluded sector of the Finalizer to themselves. It was on Level-three, accompanied by the head commutes and Generals. You and Kylo shared Level-four, all to yourselves. As of recently, you were spending a copious amount of time in solitude, in your shared quarters all alone, because he's been expediting the galaxy and searching for a Sith-way finder.

Although you were forbade from the details on his excursions, the dynamic of his quests were visibly draining and tormenting his repercussious soul. He has been brashly shrilling you with his vexation. Theoretically, you were the punching bag to his trembling fist. You were abolished by his ferocious spews, contradicting to the way you were nurtured by his embrace, comforted by the callousness of his hands, and loved by the pulsating of his melancholy heart. Forgetting that he claimed to love you was simple, when he coated his endearment with blinding rage. 

He needed you, as of right now, and as you trotted off of the platform and trudged through the hallway leading to Vicrul's quarters, remorse weighed a burden of guilt on your acutely sloped shoulders.

The corridor to his quarters whirred open with a boisterous zilch, and you slipped past the threshold, flopping back first into his Queen-sized mattress with an exasperated sigh. 

The shame was a fleeting memory, that bled through the vail of your brittle skin, as you tilted your head and watched as Vicrul beamed at you from across the room, as he rummaged through the cabinets equipping his small, cubicle kitchen. 

You needed him right now. As a bandage to conceal the fresh, bleeding wound of despair gashing your fragile flesh. For validation, comfort, and just to feel loved, again. 

"Are you going to make me sit through another one of those Romcom Holo-Series'?" He pouted, his lenient stature slouching. You chuckle mischievously, fumbling for the remote to the Entertainment Holoprojector in the black sea of his wrinkled silk sheets. 

"Come on," he groaned, stomping his booted foot, as he poured himself a half-full glass of whiskey, and you, your favorite cherry-red wine in the glass you always used. "Can we at least watch one that isn't corny as hell?"

You feigned an offended gasp, "The corny ones are always the best!" You defended, pillaging with the buttons on the holoremote, as the fizzing, sapphire-hued images of your favorite holo-drama diffused from the compact, portable object at the foot of his bed.

"Yeah, yeah." He coaxed gruffly, shuffling over to you with both liquor-filled glasses swaying in his grasp, kicking off his combat boots. "Make room for the big guy."

You snorted in amusement, scrambling across the sheets, swathing yourself in the silky material as he slammed the glasses down on his bedside table. He wiggled his leather garbed fingers, shucking off his gloves. 

You vigorously smoothed out the sheets next to you, and he dived into the welcoming embrace, rolling towards you, as you both chuckled and curled into each other's bodies. 

"Which sappy movie are we watching?" He murmured teasingly into your hair, pecking your temple with his puckered lips and nestling into you as you entangled your legs with his and sighed contently.

You grinned cheekily and hummed into his neck, latching your lips around the sensitive skin and pressing a supple kiss. "I don't know." You mumbled, peppering slow, passionate kisses into his flesh, as he let out a throaty growl that rumbled against your lips. 

You shifted your weight, pressing your hip into his, as your hand slithered up his broad torso. Your fingers plunged into the collar of his tunic, yanking it down, licking a stripe down to his clavicle. He stifled a grunt, his hand impelling your waist and hoisting you into his lap. 

"You're so bad," he snickered playfully, gingerly clasping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, that batted virtuously. A wry smirk was plastered on his lips, as you jutted out yours, and blinked at him with puppy-dog eyes, pawing at his tunic. 

"Aw," he cooed in defeat, clicking his tongue as his hand enveloped the tender space behind your earlobe, fingers threading through your staticky locks. "How could I say no to this pretty little face?"

His lips connected with yours, in a sweet, subtle kiss. "You can't," you muttered coyly into his lips, and his nostrils emitted a steamy huff of amusement, as his hand snakes down your waist and caressed the back of your thigh, jeering you closer to him. 

You deepened the kiss, interlocking your tongue with his, as your lips eloped in harmony, and passionate rhythm. You moaned softly into his lips, adjusting yourself to be straddling his hips, resting your center on his bulge, that poked you on the inner thigh.

Both of his hands kneaded your hipbones, as you started to grind into him, the friction between your legs eliciting a mewl from the depths of your throat. "I want you, Vic." You whispered in a tantalizing, sultry tone, staring at his lips as they twitched with raunch, swollen and craving the softness of yours. His eyes trained on yours, as small pants passed through your lips. 

"I want you, too, princess." He smiled somberly, stroking a wild strand of hair out of your face. "But... the Supreme Leader is supposed to arrive tonight."

Your lips formed into a chagrin, lopsided line. You smoothed out the crisp, shriveling fabrications of his tunic, as you bowed your head timidly and sucked in a breath. 

"I'm scared he's going to hurt me." You rasped mundanely, crashing your forehead with his, as tears brimmed your eyelids, and you harbored your sobs in your twinging lungs. For a moment, he was as stiff as a board beneath you, radiating his astonishment with tangible waves of distress. For your entire captivation lead by the First Order, he had never seen you cry once. 

Crying around anybody, other than Kylo, would never be your acclaiming forte. Your stubbornness was immense, and the thought of showcasing yourself as weak or vulnerable to anyone bruised and bloodied your faltering ego. 

He firmly breathed your name, his tone grave and austere. The bitterness was tactile at the tip of his tongue, as he swiped it along his top-teeth indignantly. When you only sniffled in response, he cupped both of your cheeks tenderly and eased your face away from his. His jade, opal-ore eyes scorned through yours with grief and desolation. 

"What do you mean?" He demanded, his eyebrows weaving together, as he sputtered the words and briskly smoothed out your hair, his eyes darting between yours and his lips trembling in bewilderment. 

You feigned modesty, shrugging your downcasted shoulders and smearing the single tear that had cascaded down your rouge cheek with your knuckles. 

"Don't tell me you don't know." he seethed through gritted teeth, "If he's been hurting you, I need you to tell me. Right now." 

You scoffed, your voice croaking with fragility and quivering with discourage. "Vicrul." You hissed his name, "What does it matter? We both know you can't stop him." 

His lips parted, his demeanor concrete with possessiveness and wretch, only for his menacing facade to crumble and become refurbished with a mask of solemness. 

His lips collided with yours with an endeavored softness, that was subtle and mollifying, and you inhaled the toxic fumes of lust through your flaring nostrils as his hands cradled your body and he exchanged positions with you. 

Your back was greeted with the silkiness of his sheets, that were torrid from the embeddement of his body-heat. His colossal frame hovered above you, his sandy-chestnut, voluptuous locks looming over your face as your tongue was audaciously addressed with his again. 

His hands set sail on an exploit of exploring the curves and edges of your squirming body. Your tongues were clashing in a rumba dance of passion and temptation, as you rocked your pelvis into his and whimpered into his warm mouth, the taste of Jogan lingering. 

"I love you." He grated into your lips, a ribbon of spit conjoining your swollen, tingling lips as you peered up at him with bulging eyes. 

His pants wafted into your face, as you blinked at him tediously, hiccuping on your breath. I love you, too. You thought, only for your jumbled, merely cohesive thoughts to scramble as he continued speaking feverishly.

"Just let me take care of you," he pleaded, desperation filtering the grisliness of his compliant tone. "Be my princess." His nails embarked on a conquest of etching their crescent-shapes into your thighs, as he pried them apart. 

Your breath hitched, as you capture him with the embrace of your legs, locking him in place. Tears streamed down your flustered cheeks, basking in freedom, as they painted your skin in beady droplets. He fidgeted with the buckle of his belt, aggressively fumbling with the complex loops of it, before slamming it to the floor. 

He averted his saliva-tainted lips to your throbbing throat, scattering sloppy kisses, peppering the expanse of your neck— that withheld the visible wrath of the abuse of Kylo's leather digits— with cherished, virtuous kisses. 

His lips skidded across a blotchy welt in your skin, a diabolical love-mark from the canines of Kylo. "Let me kiss it better." He whispered, pressing a delicate kiss to the violet mark engraved into your skin. 

You raked your clammy fingers through his satiny tendrils, mewling and nibbling on your bottom lip. His lips invaded the contrarily blank canvas of your throat, painting it with the nutrients of his damp lips, as his hand teetered towards his pants and he unzipped them leisurely. 

He fumbled with the buttons of your commuting wear, shucking them off of you gingerly and tossing them to the floor. His fingers traced the lace embroidery of your panties with admiration.

"Vic?" Your voice was a harmless, brittle whisper immersing with the hefty air of his quarters.

He paused, his lips stroking your jaw as he glided them up to your face. 

"I think I love you, too." You whispered solemnly, another tear strolling down your cheek, as you pecked him on the tip of his nose and he let out a deep breath of relief. 

His lips smothered yours again, with a kiss that electrified your veins, as his hands found the hem of his tunic. He yanked it off of his head stridently, tossing it onto the durasteel floor, as it contributed to the cluster of crinkled clothing collecting there. He then grappled with the hem of your blouse, twiddling the fabric between his thumbs. You arched your back and he smirked as he slipped the blouse over your head, discarding it. 

Your hands explored his toned abdomen, as he used the warmth of his lips to dissolve the dampness of tears that had accumulated on your cheeks. He kneaded your breasts with his rough palms, tweaking your nipple through your bra as you hummed in satisfaction and leaned into his gratifying touch.

He caressed your waist with his digits, trailing his tumulus fingers down your sides, flittering around your hips, until they found the lace-string securing your panties. He hooked his fingers into the band, tugging them down slothfully, slipping them past your ankles. His lips attacked the soft flesh of your belly, as he admired your thighs with his quarrying hands, massaging and pinching your skin. 

His hand slithered up your torso, and you stifled a mewl when it engulfed your throat, crushing your windpipes as he sneered and hoisted himself up, aligning his bulge with your entrance. His free hand grappled with the elastic band of his boxers as he kicked them off. 

"You're my princess," he stated earnestly, his eyebrows knitting together as he pumped his solid shaft leisurely, twisting his wrist, tightening his merciless grip around your throat. "And you deserve to be treated like one, don't you?" 

You nodded vigorously, wetting your upper lip with the tip of your tongue as you felt your core dripping at the sight of his rouge, parted lips, as small grunts of pleasure slipped past them.

"Use your words for me." He commanded softly, as he loosened his grip around your throat and adjusted his position, lining up with your soaked entrance. 

"Y-yes." You gasped when he sheathed you're entrance with his cock, easing into you with one full, despotic thrust.

He grunted, his hand slithering up to your jaw and pinching your cheeks between his calloused fingers, as he pumped in and out of you with deep, slick strokes, rocking his hips methodically. Your jaw dropped in ecstasy, as every inch of him filled you up, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Mm, Vic." You moaned lewdly, your tone etched with yearning and desire, as you harbored your breath in your lungs, his breaths quickening as he increased the speed of his bucking hips. 

"Kriff," he hissed, as you clench around his throbbing cock and whine. "You feel so good around me," he rasped, as the fapping of his tip ramming into your cervix reverberated around his quarters, your hiccuped moans mingling with his soft grunts.

Your breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts, as he gritted his teeth and pounded into your core, snaking his hand down to your pulsating clit. A guttural, wanton moan escaped your parted lips as your head lulled backwards, his fingers kneading your clit in choppy circles, his tip connecting with your sweet spot. 

The ruthless impact of his knuckles collided with your cheek, and you gasped, raking in lungfuls of the heated air that reeked of sex and inclination. "Be quiet." He sneered through a grunt, his middle and forefinger tracing your bottom lip, smearing your droll along your quivering chin. "My brothers will hear you." 

A poised, tempting grin tugged at your lips, as you panted with each merciless thrust of his twinging shaft. "Make me." You scowled, your prudent, faltering grin lingering, as his fingers invaded the gap between your lips, pressing down firmly on your tongue as you subconsciously sealed your lips around his knuckles and gagged. 

His undereye trembled with lustrous vexation, as he slipped his fingers in and out of your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his fingertips, humming into them with quipped breaths, as your climax ascended the ladder of euphoria. 

"Aw," he feigned the remorseful coo, flattening his fingers on your tongue, eliciting another gag from you, as he ransacked your guts with his shaft. "The princess can't whine anymore, can she?" 

You snarled around his fingers, securing your legs around his torso, and with one determined breath through flared nostrils, you smashed your hips into his and rolled him over, slamming him onto his back as you straddled his hips.

You instantly rocked your pelvis into his cock in oceanic, rhythmic motions, gliding up and down his shaft, that was swathed in your juices. He groaned through barred teeth, his hands clasping onto your hips, and eagerly guiding you into him. Your slick folds embraced the head of his cock as you coasted from the top, and clenched around the base, moaning around his fingers. 

You clasped onto his wrist with both hands, batting your eyelashes at him virtuously as you grind into his cock, coating it in your wetness. You kneaded his palm with your fingers gingerly as you directed his fingers in and out of your swollen mouth, swirling your tongue around the crevices, licking his fingertips.

"You're fucking naughty," he rasped through a deep, defeated moan, his heart drumming in his throat as you picked up your pace, slamming down on him with raspy moans as his tip strikes your tender spot. 

"And you fucking love it, don't you Vic?" Your words were a variety of merely cohesive, and hoarse with arousel, as you grappled onto his toned chest, embroidering crimson ribbons of scratches into his skin, as you felt your peak rise. 

"I l-love anything you do to me." He sputtered irrationally through a strained breath, groaning brashly and embedding marks into your hipbones as his shaft twitched inside of you. 

Your benign smile morphed into a queasy smirk, as you loomed your face over his, and gingerly clasped his jaw between your dainty fingers. You pinched the tender flesh seamed to his plush mouth, and his lips snapped open. Your nose brushed his as you gathered a wad of spit in the back of your throat, and tediously drizzled it into his mouth, grinding into him gratingly as he whimpered gruffly and swallowed your saliva. 

"I'm going to cum." You breathed, discombobulated and woozy from the adrenaline of taking control— which you only had an opportunity of indulging in when you were with Vicrul. 

"Cum on my cock, princess." He muttered through curled lips, as his chest heaved with his appending climax, his head crashing into the pillow.

Your swaying, bouncing body convulsed as your climax crashed into you like a tidal wave, drowning you in liquidating ecstasy, as you wailed in pleasure and clenched around his trembling shaft.

Before you fully finished, he rustled with you in the sheets, flipping you back over and pinning you into the mattress. He pounded you into an oblivion, aiding you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, as you moaned in astonishment and rocked with the force of his thrusts. 

"I love this tight little cunt," he seethed, as beady droplets of sweat burrowed into his skin, colliding with yours. He thrusted into you only once more, before he eased out of you leisurely, and straddled your waist. 

You instinctively opened your mouth, jaw slack, tongue expectantly darting out. His fist curled around his cock, he pumped it jarringly, grunting and babbling curses, rocking his hips into his hand, until hot jets of cum bursted all over your face. Collecting in a pool on your tongue, drizzling down your eyebrow, coating your neck and tits as you swallowed appreciatively.

He collided into the sheets next to your writhing figure— that were damp with a puddle of sweat, that emitted from your bonded, twined bodies. He fumbled with a cloth on his bedside table, and idly wiped your grimy skin clean of his seed. Your heart raced with reluctance, your pants wafting into his chest as you tumbled over and nuzzled into his torso.

As both of you recovered from your climaxes, with twiddling hearts and sweat-matted locks, your bodies latched onto one another's, as you chuckled at the scene being displayed on the holoprojector. Vicrul stroked damp strands of baby hairs out of your face, his gaze gouging the high-ceilings as he was entranced with his apprehensive thoughts.

He sulked, murmuring your name subduedly, as his fingers feathered through your unruly hair and forced you to tilt your head up to peer up at him. 

"Hm?" You hummed drearily, blinking at him slowly through fatigued eyelids. 

"I'm not going to let him hurt you anymore," he exclaimed consequentially, shaking his head in disapproval, and pecking you on your greasy forehead. "But, it's not going to be easy, and I need to know you are willing to cooperate with me." 

You gulped down your trepidation. "What will we need to do?" You asked heedfully.

He sighed, adjusting the sheets on top of your splayed bodies, fidgeting with the loose fabrications, before he leaned in and whispered haphazardly in your ear, "We need to leave."


End file.
